


Like Family

by TakingOverMidnight3482



Series: Julie and the Phantoms One-Shots: Ghostly Mishaps [8]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Luke's parents are good people, blame Genesis for this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26658274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakingOverMidnight3482/pseuds/TakingOverMidnight3482
Summary: He follows them anyway, despite knowing what he’s going to see before he even gets out of the car. Out of the parking lot, up the gravel path seven rows, over six spaces to the right. And then his parents are kneeling, and his mother is pulling out a tissue and his father is rubbing her back, his own eyes not devoid of tears.In Loving Memory: Luke Patterson. 1978-1995. Son, friend, and the spirit of music.
Series: Julie and the Phantoms One-Shots: Ghostly Mishaps [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925116
Comments: 86
Kudos: 851





	Like Family

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna post my bi-Reggie story but then hazel-eyed-bi decided she wanted to give me angsty tags to work with on tumblr instead. So this is her fault. 
> 
> Alex and Reggie's last names aren't canon, I just went with ones that felt like they fit with their first names the best. 
> 
> I ate approximately 17 Twizzlers while writing this. That's not important, I just felt the need to tell people.

Luke isn’t sure why it didn’t occur to him.

Why it didn’t occur to any of them, really. Not until he’s visiting his parents once again, arriving just in time to find them climbing into the car. Before he can think, he’s poofing into the backseat, because this is _his_ time. Even if they don’t know he’s there, even if all they’re doing is just grocery shopping, he’s happy to be around them.

And then they turn into the cemetery.

Luke’s throat goes dry.

He follows them anyway, despite knowing what he’s going to see before he even gets out of the car. Out of the parking lot, up the gravel path seven rows, over six spaces to the right. And then his parents are kneeling, and his mother is pulling out a tissue and his father is rubbing her back, his own eyes not devoid of tears.

_In Loving Memory: Luke Patterson. 1978-1995. Son, friend, and the spirit of music._

Luke stumbled when he read it, phantom pain shooting through his chest. His eyes flickered away from the headstone and to the grass under his parent’s knees. His _body_ was down there. Probably looking all nice and stiff in a suit and tie that he’d never be caught…well.

He knew they were ghosts. Obviously.

But it really didn’t register that he was dead, his body was lifeless, until he was standing six feet above it in a cemetery with his family weeping over his grave.

Luke almost left, panic starting to well in his throat.

And then his mother dug into her jacket and pulled out a guitar pick. She kissed it, gentle, pressed it into his father’s hands. He mimicked her actions, and then they laid it across the bottom together, his father picking up the one that had already been sitting there and pocketing that.

Those were…those were _his._

Luke edged closer, kneeling to look at the pick. It was painted with tiny red swirls, and the lump settled in his throat. Reggie had painted that for him. That was his actual pick. Not one from a shop or free from a concert. His parents had kept his picks.

He stood, trembling, and turned to watch his parents help each other to their feet. Emily stared down at his grave for a long moment, clinging to Mitch’s arm. “We love you baby,” she whispered, so soft that Luke almost didn’t hear her. They turned, squared their shoulders, and started walking away.

He was prepared to follow them out of the cemetery, to follow them home, but instead of turning left down the gravel path, they went right.

Curious, Luke followed. Had another relative died since he had? It wouldn’t shock him – his grandparents had been pretty old. His grandfather on his dad’s side had died when Luke was 9, but their family had only really gone to his grave on his birthday and on Christmas, neither of which was today.

Eight rows up, to the left this time, nine down, and his parents were kneeling again. Luke swallowed, twisting his hands in his flannel, and nervously peeked around his mother’s head.

_In loving memory of Reginald Peters. 1978-1995. Let the music take you._

Luke’s heart would have stopped if it hadn’t been already. His lips parted and he shot his gaze to his parents, back to the grave. _Reggie’s_ grave. He watched as his father pulled out a pick this time, this one painted with tiny blue stars.

Luke had made that one. For Reggie.

His chest ached as he listened to his mother murmur a small greeting, dusting her fingers lovingly over the gravestone while his father laid the pick down, taking another one from it’s place. This wasn’t a one time thing.

Stunned, he followed them in a trance, no longer shocked when instead of heading back to the car, he followed them once more up the path. And up. And up.

They veered left, under a grove of pine trees, down six stones, until they came to a stop. The area around it was not well kept, but this grave was. Luke didn’t need to look, but he did anyway.

_Alexander Mercer. 1978-1995._

That was it. No inscription, no loving words. Luke’s throat closed in anger and he struggled to breathe, even though he didn’t really need to. Even in death, it seemed, Alex’s parents hadn’t wanted anything to do with him.

Unlike Luke’s grave, unlike Reggie’s, Emily spoke out loud as she knelt. “Morning, baby,” she said, quiet, like she didn’t want to disturb him. She leaned over, dusting off the grave of loose twigs and pine needles. “Your sister sends her love. She’s doing well – she and her wife just adopted their second. Her name’s Gracie, she’s 2. She’s gorgeous - the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen in my life.”

Luke felt like he was intruding. His eyes were fully watering now, and he pressed a hand to his mouth despite the fact that neither parent would be able to hear him if he did make a noise. Emily continued. “Alexander turned 9 last week – he’s getting so big. She sends us pictures all the time.”

Luke’s heart shattered as he watched his father reach into his jacket and pull out a drumstick, laying it over the grave. There wasn’t one to replace, and that seemed to upset Luke’s parents. Emily’s hands graced the edges of the stone. “I’m sorry your parents won’t visit still,” she murmured, sighing. “I don’t understand…”

She trailed off and leaned against Mitch, rubbing her eyes wearily. “We love you, sweetheart. And I know wherever you three ended up, you’re still the responsible one.”

Luke shuddered out a laugh, swiping at the now free-flowing tears. That much, at least, was true.

Emily kissed her fingertips and pressed them tenderly to Alex’s name – something she used to do to Luke’s forehead when he was a little kid. Mitch brushed off a bit of scattered dirt and left something Luke couldn’t quite see in it’s place, and then the couple stood, arm in arm. “Love you, honey. Give those boys a hug for us, hmm?”

They walked past Luke, both of them crying, and Luke twisted to watch them go. His jaw was loose, and the tears were sliding over his chin and falling into the air. He glanced back at Alex’s grave, and his breath hitched at the sight of the tiny pride flag, stuck firmly in the ground and wiggling in the breeze. He stared at it for one moment, two, before turning on his heel and following his parents back towards the parking lot.

Luke had never thought his parents cared much for the other guys. They never disliked them, sure, but he’d always thought they resented them for taking him away, and maybe even blamed them for his death. And yet here they were, visiting Reggie’s grave, and, from the looks of it, singlehandedly upkeeping Alex’s in his sister’s absence.

He couldn’t help but wonder how Alex would react when he told him that his sister was not only gay, but married to another woman.

His breath caught again and Luke rubbed his eyes, stumbling a little on the gravel before regaining his balance. His parents kept in contact with Alex’s sister. Were supportive of Alex. Treated Reggie’s grave the way they treated his. They loved his friends – his _family_ – the way Luke always had.

His sob was choked, and a weight he didn’t even know existed lifted from his shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the idea that Emily and Mitch regularly visit the other guys' graves as well. And since Alex's parents are garbage, they take really good care of his headstone and keep in contact with his (gaaaaayyy) sister to give him updates on how she, her wife, and her kids are doing. And yes her first kid is named after Alex.


End file.
